Boreal and John Grey Season 1 by Chrystalla Thoma Page A

remember, her apartment felt like a home.
    Crazy, really. She hardly knew Finn, and Missy seemed only interested in food and the occasional scratch behind the ears. But these two persons needed her right now, and she’d take care of them. Odd how that made her smile.
    Outside the window, the clouds were a pale grey that muted the light of street lamps and turned it into a milky haze. Snowflakes swirled, larger and larger. Soon the street and benches would be covered in white. A blank slate, ready for a new beginning.  
    Missy climbed on the window sill and flicked her ears back and forth, then butted her nose against the glass.
    “What do you think, kitty?” Ella whispered. “Will everything turn out all right?” Missy tried to capture a snowflake through the glass and looked confused when it didn’t work. Ella snickered.
    Then her phone rang, and she jerked around as Missy jumped off the sill and vanished into the bedroom.
    Damn, Finn would wake up. In two strides, Ella was at the table, picking the phone up.
    “Dave?” Because what other madman would be up all night, working? The man never slept.
    “Bad news.” He sounded grim and out of breath. “Sit down.”
    That was worse than bad, that sounded... No . “Tell me.”
    “Ella...” He muttered something she didn’t catch, then cleared his throat. “We found Simon. He’s dead.”
    The room began to tilt sideways. She stumbled into the armchair and slid to her knees on the carpet. “No.”
    “I’m sorry. Another two missing agents were found with him. All three are dead.”
    “No.” It couldn’t be true. Though, somewhere deep inside, she’d known. Simon wouldn’t have taken off without telling her. The Shades wouldn’t have kept him alive. He wouldn’t... “No, Dave.”
    “Ella?” Finn stirred on the sofa. “Are you okay?”
    “Look, I understand it’s a shock,” Dave said, his voice vibrating over the phone. “It will—”
     “Shock?” She snorted. It hurt her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The code, the book, the spirals, the brief joy she’d felt — it all meant nothing, it had no use. “Go to hell. You have no idea.”
    “Ella!” Finn was struggling to sit up. “What is it?”
    “Simon was my best friend,” Ella bit the words out. “I’ll kill the bastards who got him.”
    “Yes, we will,” Dave said, “we’ll talk tomorrow, when you come in—”
    She hung up. Time had stopped. The phone dropped from her fingers and thudded on the carpet. All warmth had seeped out of her. She shivered.
    “Ella.” Hands turned her around, arms enveloped her, pressed her to a hard chest. “You’re crying.”
    “I’m not crying.” She never cried. But when she looked up, Finn’s face glimmered through a white haze, so maybe she was. “Damn you, Finn, you shouldn’t be up.”
    “Tell me what happened.”
    “I failed him. Didn’t look close enough, didn’t—” Her voice broke on a sob and she swallowed down the tears. Choked on them.
    “Who?”
    “Simon.” She drew a shaky breath. “My partner. He’s...” She couldn’t say it.
    Finn pulled her closer. He shouldn’t be kneeling there in the cold with his hurt leg and his sprained or broken wrist held awkwardly against her back, rubbing her spine up and down. But nothing mattered. She burrowed against him. She wanted to stop thinking, to forget what she’d just been told, to pretend even for a while that everything was okay.
    His chin rested on top of her head, and she closed her eyes against his shirt. He still reeked of blood, but underneath was that smell of spice and sugar that reminded her of lit fireplaces and happy laughter.
    She curled, breathing in and out, gripping fistfuls of his shirt as if he might wither away and vanish, too.
     

     

    THE END of EPISODE ONE



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    The Gate
    Episode 2

    In Aelfheim, the land of ice, two elven races live in permanent conflict: the Ljosaelfar, pale and quick, and the Dokkaelfar, dark and wise, who’ve claimed the